It could be a bunch of somethings. You’re allergic to pine trees but you live in the woods. Your tween needs orthodontia that you can’t afford. Your car has developed a disconcerting sound like safety pins being ground in a blender, but it never makes this noise for the mechanic. Your husband is acting different and you’re wondering if he’s ill or having an affair and it’s hard to tell which would feel worse.

I think some coaches do the world a disservice when they market themselves as sort of glamorous fairy godparents. They display their beautiful, seamless, jet-setting lives on Twitter and Facebook, and they imply–if they don’t come right out and say–that if you follow them and their formula, your life will be like that, too.

I’m not that kind of coach. My life isn’t pretty all of the time. Parts of it are weird. Some of it is downright messed up.